Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Alright, Stanley, I’ve got a fun new ending for you today! For… no reason in particular.”

...

“Now, now. Don’t give me that look! You should feel very grateful that I’m just giving you a new ending without all the bells and whistles of trying to keep you on the right track.”

The office worker waved the words away as he continued on through the first communal office space and into the second.

“Stanley! I had a new starting dialogue as well and you just- no! No bucket today!”

‘Why not?’ He wondered, considering half the time the Narrator whined whenever Stanley didn’t pick it up.

“Because this is… uhm, ah...” he sounded a little off, unsure of what to say, before finding the words, “a new not-bucket ending.”

‘A “not-bucket ending”? Is that what we’re calling them?’

Ignoring him, the Narrator went on, “Stanley was feeling a tad antsy today, so why not throw caution to the wind and play a little ‘hooky’, as the youth say. After all, what would be the harm in taking a day off?”

Now that caught Stanley’s attention.

“He made his way out of the office, ready to have some fun!”

And that he did.

When he finally got to the two doors room, the Narrator continued, “Ready to be a smidge more... devious… today, Stanley took the door on his right.”

Well, that was true, he did enjoy being devious.

“Through the lounge, down the hall, then into the warehouse he went!”

Stanley continued on.

“Once at the lift, he did something quite... naughty.”

...

“Now don’t give me that look, Stanley,” he sighed. “You know precisely how I meant that. There’s no other meaning in this instance of my use of the word! And really, must my word choice and the specific way I vocalize those certain words always mean something?”

Stanley really had nothing to think to that, so he didn’t. Just blinked at the ceiling, waiting for the story to continue.

“Allow me to rephrase that so your simple mind can understand what the intended inflection was. Ahem! …Stanley then did something incredibly inadvisable and certainly against health and safety regulations! He got on the lift and when the timing was right, he defiantly jumped down onto the catwalk. Hopefully not shattering any bones in his legs and feet,” the Narrator finished, unconcerned.

With a barely concealed laugh, Stanley did just that. And as always, he felt fine. No broken bones, but he did shake his legs out a bit before continuing on through the door before him and into the red and blue doors room.

“When Stanley came to a room with a red door and a blue door, the Narrator was very much so hoping that Stanley would take the blue door,” he nearly pleaded.

Stanley made his way to the red door and the Narrator groaned.

Then he was… laughing?

“Haha!!! Gotcha!!!"

Stanley stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, Stanley, you’re much too easy," he nearly hummed the words in a way that had the office worker blushing- before quickly going back to his annoying enthusiasm, "Hahah!! I just knew you’d be a little nuisance and pick whichever was the opposite door that I wanted you to go through, therefore I had reversed which door leads to where! So this time, the red door is actually the blue door, and vice versa.”

Stanley would be impressed if the idea wasn’t so bland and unoriginal.

“Unoriginal?! How dare you! This was a very clever use of reverse psychology! Regardless, this ending was quite the tricky work to put together! You had better appreciate all of this effort I’ve put in for you!! Now go on, go through the next door.”

Stanley did so.

Everything went dark, the load screen filled his vision.

---

When Stanley opened his eyes... his vision was filled with warm orange tones. It was… autumn?

The air was crisp and cool but not too chill. There were a few houses around what appeared to be the town square he was standing in. And in the square were a few little circus like tents lined with red and white stripes scattered about.

He enjoyed the jaunty yet mellow little tune that filled the area.

This was actually really… nice? If not a bit squarish? It wasn’t as harshly square as that strange mining world from the original Games Ending, but more like everything was made up of really, really tiny squares and kinda looked-

“My god… you’re flat.”

Stanley looked down at his hands, even as he moved his arms something felt a little clunky about it. He did notice some sort of dark outlines around himself made of a sort of pixel texture, but not too different than usual.

Stanley didn’t think he looked flat? So the Narrator had to be seeing him a little differently from wherever he was.

“I was hoping that converting this world to ours wouldn’t leave it all… two-dimensional… Ah, well. Anywho! This little ‘farming simulator’ game seems quite popular, and since you’ve mentioned wanting to go to the carnival before I had been searching for popular video games with something of the sort. Luckily for us, this game fits the bill! It has a special little autumn fair that’s as close to a carnival as you’ll be getting. So there you are, Stanley. Have fun!”

‘Hey, wait!’ He could almost hear a little beep accompany his thought as it was written out in the text box before him... that he couldn’t have known was there since only the Narrator could see it.

Stanley wondered, for only a moment, what this game's deal was before he shook the thought and continued, ‘You're leaving?’

"Is there something the matter, Stanley? Do you perhaps need me?" he said in the most annoying way possible.

'No! I need someone to play the carnival games against.'

“Do you see your problem, Stanley? Must everything be a competition? Must you always insist on getting the last laugh?”

The office worker sighed, ready for a long ass lecture of nonsense.

“You focus much too much on trying to one-up those around you while being stuck in a cycle of perfectionism to a most unhealthy degree. Allow yourself the moment to not have competition, to not need to be better than anyone but yourself.”

Yes. That was definitely Stanley's problem. Not anyone else in here suffered from any of that.

"What are you implying?"

‘Nothing. It's fine. If you don’t think you can beat me at the slingshot mini-game, just say so.’

“…After all the work I put into this birthday gift for you, this is the thanks I get?”

‘It’s my birthday?’

“Well, it’s the anniversary of the original Stanley Parable that I so generously allowed you to claim as your birthday.”

‘Some birthday. All I ever asked for was a carnival date, and now I get a carnival but no date.’

“Stanley, I am doing you a favor by not coming down there and showing you up on such a special occasion.”

‘Sure, that’s it. It’s not because you’re scared to lose.’

…

All went silent and Stanley was left with nothing but the cool autumn atmosphere and light tune that accompanied it. Despite being devoid of people, this place still felt so cozy.

He took a deep calming breath, the smell of mushroom lingered in the probably pixelated air. He loved autumn, though, he couldn’t say he missed the season because he never really experienced it before now. But he knew he’d like to experience it a lot more.

Despite the warmth of it all, it still felt somewhat melancholy here, so beautiful but so empty. However, there was life in this game still, just in the form of plants. He made his way over to the nearest tree to inspect it and pulled on one of the dark purple leaves. It stayed put. Which made him wonder how strong the branch was, so he gave it a little tug and it stayed just as put.

Interesting, a nice sturdy tree.

“Alright, fine!” the Narrator’s voice echoed through the quiet town. “Are you actually happy now Stanley? Is this what you wanted so badly you could hardly stand it? The need to have me here in person was so great that you-” the Narrator stopped as he noticed the world around him. “Oh, this is certainly quite strange, isn’t it?

Stanley nodded but he had already gotten used to it for himself.

“It seems when I wasn't in the game myself you looked so flat, tiny... pixelated. You look much better from here, more like the portrait that accompanied your text box when you spoke earlier… well, thought.

Stanley wasn’t sure what that all meant? A portrait when he spoke?

“Yes, allow me to explain.”

Stanley sighed.

“The way this game appears to work is that the characters- to the player of the game- have a tiny, flat, blocky form known as a ‘character sprite’. However, when the characters speak they’ve a little portrait of themselves beside the text of their words that, while still drawn in pixels, are a much higher quality version of themselves. This is clearly the way they actually appear to themselves and each other from within the game. ...Do you understand, Stanley?”

…

“Uhm, Stanley?” The Narrator looked around before he spotted Stanley a top the nearby tree. “What on earth are you doing?!”

The office worker moved to get comfortable, sitting on the branch and kicking his legs in the air. Despite not understanding what the Narrator was talking about, he very much could see the Narrator did look like a high quality pixel art version of himself.

He also noticed that the Narrator was wearing a fancy black suit with coattails, a big red bow tie, and small round glasses.

‘Were you gonna take me to the opera or something?’

“I beg your pardon?”

‘What’s with the fancy get up?’

Looking over his own outfit, a little self-consciously now, the Narrator gave a huff, “Well, skimming through the game files there weren’t many outfit options that looked to be proper date-wear from the main romance candidates, so I had to look elsewhere. Not to mention, not a whole lot of plus-sized options," he scoffed. "However, I did end up finding a non-woo-able character with the proper size specifications and quite a nice outfit, wouldn't you say, Stanley?”

‘”Date-wear”? What does that even mean? You aren't taking me to a fancy restaurant, it’s a carnival! Besides, you look more like you’re gonna try an sell me a membership to some shitty big chain supermarket.’ He moved to hang upside down on the branch, no longer able to see his companion.

“Stanley, have you really whined for me to come down here just to be rude?”

‘Rude? That was-AH-’ With a loud crack, the tree branch broke and Stanley fell directly into the cobblestone ground, face first. ‘Ugh.’

“Hmph,” the Narrator chuckled, “You see, Stanley… you complain about my storytelling methods at times being too ‘mean-spirited’ and ‘petty’, but you truly do this to yourself. You earn your own endings.”

Stanley sat up as he rubbed his face and blinked away the blur in his eyes.

Huh. Actually, now that he saw the Narrator from up close, Stanley could not deny that the Narrator really could pull off any outfit. He wasn’t about to make that thought clear, though.

‘You look like a preppy dork.’

His companion gave an overly dramatic gasp. “Well if you weren’t dressed like a boring office drone then perhaps our date-wear wouldn't be so mismatched!”

Stanley moved to sit up. He stretched his legs out before him while leaning his hands back on the cold cobblestone. With a shrug, he thought, ‘You wrote me to dress like this.’

“It looked as though the Narrator had gone through all of the trouble of converting this strange, flat game into something more viable for Stanley, only to be berated. Stanley was truly the most ungrateful man ever.” He crossed his arms, genuinely looking upset now.

‘Jeez, that’s a little too whiny even for you.’

When the Narrator didn’t respond Stanley stood up and dusted himself off.

‘Come on, it’s my birthday!’

“It seemed all Stanley was capable of was whining so he unfortunately missed his chance to play any of the carnival games with the Narrator as he-”

‘No, wait! I wanna play!’ He grabbed the Narrator’s hand and dragged him to one of the fun looking tents.

His companion complained but complied, “Stanley had first chosen to prove his skills at the shooting gallery.”

Stanley stepped into the tent. He and the Narrator were suddenly standing in a little rectangle of space that was fenced off with a blue railing. A slingshot sat on the rail.

Looking around the strangely spacious inside of the tent... well, he couldn’t say he was a fan of the gallery's aesthetic.

The backdrop looked to be a vast desert with blue sky and a few cacti drawn over the sand.

“Not a fan of the ‘old west’ look?”

Stanley shook his head. He wasn’t a fan of the long empty desert look.

“Well, I didn’t make this game, you know. If I had, I’m certain the aesthetic would have really wow’d you! After all, you’ve seen my work on the Sequel Expo, you know to only expect the best when it comes to gaming from me, Stanley.”

As Stanley grabbed the slingshot sitting before him, he thought that maybe... the desert wasn’t so bad when he could still hear his permanent personal tour guide whining about something or another.

“I heard that, Stanley.”

‘Yeah, I didn’t hide the thought.’ He was more focused on the sky before him now, slingshot ready, one eye closed. ‘Let me do a round on my own so I can get ready to beat you.’

The Narrator scoffed but snapped his fingers.

And Stanley waited.

…

Suddenly a horrifyingly loud whistle rang out that had him tossing his slingshot in the air and nearly juggling it to get not only his nerves but a proper hold back.

The targets were already flying by.

“Stanley, finally got a grip and began his assault on the dreaded targets… that rather plainly look to be good old fashioned red and white circled targets. Hmm, I would've tried something more fun… like buckets! Or perhaps figleys.”

Stanley hadn’t heard a word the Narrator said, he was much too focused on the game.

One shot, two, then three… shot after shot, Stanley -

“…Missed every single one? Oh come now, it can’t be that much of a challenge for you?”

‘I’d be doing better if it was against you.’

“Really now?”

The Narrator waited in chilling silence as Stanley finished the game… and truly had missed every single shot. He really didn’t know why his aim was so off, or maybe the targets were moving too fast?

“Or, perhaps- and I’m merely taking a wild guess here... you aren’t very good at this.”

Stanley was about ready to throw the damn slingshot at the next target he saw but before he could even think, the Narrator was holding his own slingshot now.

“So, you were practically begging to up against me?”

Stanley considered his options, he was… maybe a little more hesitant to follow through on that ask- he didn’t beg!- for competition now. He had thought he'd be able to back up all his boasting with some randomly surprising skill after what happened when the Narrator had tossed him into a bowling competition some time ago and Stanley got nothing but strikes, much to the Narrator's extreme annoyance. But... maybe Stanley's luck had run out?

“Hah! I’m afraid it looks as though you may have nibbled off more than you can masticate.”

…

…

‘…’

“Masticate, Stanley!! It means to chew!”

‘Oh. I bit off more than I could… yeah okay. Wait no! Anyway, you only wanna go against me because you saw how crap I am at this.’

“I should think that was rather obvious.”

He groaned but at the moment there wasn’t really much he could say. And hey, maybe the Narrator sucked as much as he did.

‘...Fine.’

The Narrator snapped his fingers and the whistle went off again.

Klink klink klink

The light tap of what could only be described as the smallest bit of glass being shattered rang out every time Stanley hit a target.

And he was hitting every single one.

A set of quicker blue targets entered the arena, and the sound of hitting them was much more like... a plate shattering? It was hard to say but literally no one would want to have to write out the onomatopoeia for any of this, especially when a couple of even quicker purple targets came into view, so Stanley ignored the sounds as he focused on simply hitting the targets.

He could hear the Narrator beside him, though, mumbling and cursing under his breath.

When the end game timer finally went off and they checked the scores-

“What!? You hit every single target? How on earth… Stanley, have you hustled me?”

Stanley was just as shocked as the Narrator was. He hadn’t done this on purpose. But damn if it wasn’t funny as hell.

With full cockiness, he leaned on the blue railing as he gave the Narrator his best smirk. ‘Maybe- and I’m just takin a wild guess here... you aren’t very good at this,’ he thought as he tried to hide his laughter.

The Narrator shook his head, “No! You’ll show me now,” he snapped his fingers and the game started, “Show me how you did it.”

Stanley panicked for a moment then tried to aim as the targets flew by once more.

And he missed every shot.

‘Damn.’

The Narrator started another game, another competition against each other and the moment Stanley pulled the slingshot back he was hitting every target.

The Narrator stopped the game again.

‘Huh,’ Stanley thought, ‘maybe I really am only good at it when I’m going against you.’

…

“Stanley, I’ve had enough of this,” he grabbed the office worker’s hand and lead them out of the tent, “would you mind if we got on with our little date? I see there's another game set up already as well.”

‘Another game?’

The Narrator nodded as they walked along the path to the next tent.

‘You're not just gonna kill me?’

“What? No!”

‘Well then what do I get out of it?’

“What do you…?” He sighed, “Stop, enough.”

They had arrived at the next tent and the Narrator immediately pulled him back out, “No! Nope! Never mind! Off we go!”

‘What?’

“That looks to be a fishing mini-game, Stanley!! Everyone knows that fishing in video games is a big no-no.”

‘You said this game was popular, though?’

“Likely popular despite the fishing.”

Honestly, Stanley didn’t really want to fish either but he didn’t want the date to end too soon.

“Not to worry, we have a few more activities we can participate in!” the Narrator said cheerfully as he dragged Stanley along. “Here, here! A test of strength game! Your goal is to hit this pressure plate at the bottom there with enough strength to get the little marker on the board to fling all the way up, hitting the bell at the top.”

Without thinking, or paying much attention to the Narrator's words, Stanley jumped onto the big plate-like button.

Nothing happened.

“You’re supposed to hit it with a hammer, Stanley.”

‘Oh.’ He got down off of the pad.

The Narrator handed him the hammer in question.

Stanley quickly jumped back up onto the pad, jumped up and hit the bell at the top with his hammer. It rang out in victory as a bit of confetti shot out the tip and rained down on him.

‘Easy,’ Stanley thought as he hopped down, confident in his bell to hammer hitting skills.

“You’re an idiot.”

‘Mad because I won again?’

“No, you dolt! It goes like this!” He grabbed the hammer and hit the pad. The little marker didn’t go high enough to hit the bell but flew up about a quarter of the way.

‘Ohhh. ...That doesn’t look as fun.’

The Narrator sighed as he grabbed Stanley’s hand and lead him to the next attraction.

It looked to be a large wheel, half of it green and the other half orange. There was a big arrow at the top, pointing to the middle, where the colors met.

The Narrator took one look at it and sighed, "I suppose this is a 'spin the wheel and guess which color the arrow at the top will land on' sort of game, but that's much too close to gambling for my tastes and I'll not be allowing that in my game."

'...You think if we make it a competition that I'll get every guess right and you'll get every guess wrong, huh?'

The Narrator groaned and grumbled something to himself before he suddenly and forcefully laced his arm around Stanley’s, dragging him away from the dreaded wheel.

“You know, it isn’t a very big area we’ve got here. I believe we’re all out of ‘games’. Our final option is to buy items with the tickets we’ve won. Not that we’ve won any tickets, and the items are all free to us anyway since I’m the one who recreated them in our game.”

Stanley nodded as he pulled the Narrator a little closer when he said “our game” rather than the usual “my game”. Stanley really liked when he said it that way.

They still made their way to the nearby item shop, just to see what all was there.

‘Flowers, fedoras, other kinda… prize tickets? Umm, rugs. But what’s this thing? It looks kinda like a mannequin?’

“Oh! I believe this is called a scarecrow, Stanley.”

‘Right, right. But it says “Rarecrow #1”?’

“Stanley, don’t think in typographical symbols unless you are referring to the Line™,” he warned as he moved the office worker aside, arms still latched though, to get a better look at the item he’d been wondering about. “I must say, I’m not quite certain why it’s called a ‘Rarecrow’ rather than a scarecrow. Perhaps it’s rare? It can’t be that rare if there are more than one of them, though.”

Stanley eyed the only other item left, it was a shimmery purple star-looking thing with two little teal leaves on top.

‘Can I get a... “Stardrop”?’

The Narrator squinted as he read the description under it aloud, “’A mysterious fruit that empowers those who eat it. The flavor is like a dream... a powerful personal experience, yet difficult to describe to others.’”

Narrator looked it over and gave a curious hum.

“…Alright, I suppose. For your birthday,” he pat Stanley’s arm, still linked around his own.

The office worker excitedly grabbed the star fruit, the texture felt strangely smooth but with small craters to grab hold of. It maybe felt something like the peel of a banana. It’s lightly rounded edges shimmered purple and orange with the reflection of the warm autumn glow all around them.

He popped it in his mouth and ate the small fruit in one bite.

…

It was strange, but the taste filled him with thoughts of…

Nothing.

“Well, it’s not really the fruit from the game I’ve lifted- ah, taken inspiration from. It’s simply a replication. Does it at least taste nice?”

‘It didn’t taste like anything.’

“Ah well, I thought you might've fooled yourself into thinking it had a pleasant taste, given its colorful appearance. Unfortunately for you, I didn’t feel the need to put any effort into this fluffy item shop nonsense. Either way! I believe this date is over.”

Stanley was getting kind of bored. He could only last so long doing normal date things before he needed to jump on a desk or hide in a broom closet.

“Normal!? You’ve not given me a moment of normalcy this entire date! All you’ve been doing is ruining what should've been a nice, fun little outing for us!”

Stanley tried to hide his smirk as he, in the most pleasant tone of thought, wondered, ‘The Games Ending is usually two games right? Don’t you have another one ready for us?’

“I do but-”

‘Then erase it,’ he responded bluntly.

“What?” The Narrator un-linked their arms so as to get a better look at Stanley, scanning his face for the slightest bit of trickery.

‘No jokes, I want you to find a game that you wanna play. Let’s see what your ideal date idea is.’

It kinda was a special day for both of them after all, not just Stanley. And he really couldn’t wait to see what sort of embarrassing nonsense the Narrator would call a fun date.

At the last thought, his companion stared daggers at him. “Alright then! I’ll pick the next game and mine will be much more fun than this silly nonsense!”

Without a word more, the Narrator made his way off screen and in the blink of an eye the load screen took over.

---

When Stanley opened his eyes he was met with a huge stadium filled with row after row of empty seats and bright spot lights above. Neon lights seemed to hover as they glowed around the inner oval of the stadium. The lights all lent to brightening the dark night sky.

Most interesting were the tall palm trees and a sparkling city off in the impossible distance that made it feel all the more real.

This place somewhat reminded Stanley of what he referred to as the Playing With Balls part of the Games Ending. However, instead of fake grass beneath his feet and giant soccer goals, the flooring was fun neon pinks and yellows lining a central gray path. It looked to be made for roller skating, Stanley thought.

“Now, I’ve gotten rid of the stock ‘announcer voice’ that comes with this particular game, as it was quite grating. Not to mention, what sort of game would be insulting enough to think the player would need a voice droning on and on about everything little thing they do?”

Stanley nodded.

“Anywho, I’ve also removed the music and any branding on the track, as I’m not here to be a shill of some sort. Not to mention, the rink was all… curvy, I think this game is for doing 'stunts'? And we’re not here to be extravagant, Stanley. Certainly not. We are here to have a nice relaxing roller skate!”

That was when Stanley realized he wasn’t really standing like normal.

He flailed for a bit before finding a sort of balance.

“Not to worry! You shouldn’t fall down. Roller skating shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for someone who so masterfully adapts to any given situation as you do, Stanley.”

Stanley was certain there was some sarcasm in that, but he did indeed adapt near instantly. Regardless, he did what he always did and just continued on, moving his feet that now glided on wheels.

As he did so, he was reminded of the one ending where the Narrator had said something about ‘Stanley and the bucket living their dreams of roller skating and sneezing on every country on earth’.

As with about half or more of the Narrator’s bucket quips- it had very much so been another moment of projection yet again it seemed.

“It was the bucket, Stanley! That was purely about you and the bucket!”

Stanley's feet glided almost effortlessly against the gray path before him, the loud clack of his skates filled the area as he sped up, yet he took the time to think, ‘Come on, I may be a little dumb but I’m not stupid. Besides, I’ve called you out on projecting onto the bucket before anyway, let’s not do this on my birthday.’

“...You… you have?”

Stanley was too used to the Narrator’s memory being pretty spotty at times. So without an emotion to the thought, he confirmed, ‘A couple different times. I’ll remind you later,’ he waved the words off. ‘Just come down here and race me!’

“My,” the Narrator teased, “someone’s feeling a little competitive today.”

‘I’ll give you a kiss if you win.’

Now that agitated his companion. “You’ll give me a kiss regardless after all I’ve done for you today!!”

Stanley held back a laugh as gave a shrug and started skating backwards, ‘You’ll have to catch me and see, I guess.’

“You- Oh, you’re impossible, Stanley!” He said nothing more after that.

The silence lasted a bit longer than usual so Stanley had to assume, or at least hope, that the Narrator was on his way.

And that he was.

The office worker slowed as he followed the path to reach his companion. He watched as the Narrator struggled in his skates and instantly grabbed the side rail.

‘Having trouble?’ He asked with the most annoying smirk he could muster as he stopped right next to him.

The Narrator gave him a terribly sour look as he gripped the rail for dear life. After finding a bit of steadiness for a moment, he finally looked up at the office worker, “Stanley, I’ve only begun using this human form for about… uhm… how long has it been?”

He shrugged, ‘Eight hundred years maybe?’

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s right. It must be more. Regardless, the way human legs work is a bit different than well… I don’t know that I’d call what I normally have legs but-”

‘You gotta show me what you “normally” look like some time,’ Stanley thought with the same amount of curiosity he’s always had about this subject. Which was to say... a hell of a lot.

The Narrator was still on shaky feet as he held the rail but took the time to give Stanley the strangest look of… surprise?

Maybe that the office worker was still wanting to see his true form some day?

“W-well, perhaps,” the Narrator had a somewhat bashful look about him as he looked down at his feet, trying to steady himself again.

Watching him, Stanley felt deep in his heart that he would want this loser no matter what he looked like. He wanted him mentally, physically, honestly just any way they could communicate through their strange twisted rituals and vaguely kind little moments of normalcy.

The thought of the Narrator looking incomprehensible or monstrous certainly didn’t deter Stanley. If he was dark and shadowy, or a mess of static and wire like limbs, none of that would change how he felt about him.

And… well, that could definitely be fun in it’s own way-

“Stanley?”

He looked back at the man and snapped out of his own thoughts. He did deeply enjoy this human form of his, though. Very deeply, Stanley teasingly thought.

“S-Stanley, you had better not be thinking crude things while we're here having a nice and wholesome evening.”

‘Even without any innuendo, I don’t know that much about us could still be called "wholesome", what with all the mind games and video game violence.'

“Stanley.”

‘Honestly, we could spend the day sneezing on every country on earth and still find a way to make it weird.’

“It’s already weird! That’s the point. You’re incredibly strange!”

‘And don’t even get me started on all the different flavors of cursed bucket stuff, including a literal curse.’

The Narrator ignored Stanley as he had nearly slipped and was trying to right himself again.

Without any thought or warning, Stanley fully grabbed the Narrator's hands with both of his and pulled him off the rail and into the rink.

“Stanley!? What are you doing!?” He looked down at his shaky feet as he held Stanley’s hands tight.

‘Too tight, calm down.’ He moved his thumbs over the top of each of the Narrator’s hands and rubbed his skin in what he hoped was a calming motion.

Stanley started slow, tried to keep the Narrator balanced so he wouldn’t pull them both down.

‘Hey, here’s something we never tried before… narrate me watching you skate real good!’

“What? That’s not at all how that…” He stared at his feet, still wobbling. “Stanley… uhm, watched as the Narrator quickly began to gain a sense of balance.”

And that he did!

‘It worked!’ Stanley let go of his hands as he gave him two thumbs up, but continued skating backwards to keep an eye on the Narrator.

The Narrator smiled as he started to glide across the floor.

‘Maybe we should call this the “Stanley Skips Work To Go On A Carnival Date With The Narrator Then Makes The Narrator's Roller Skating With Stanley Dreams Come True Ending.’

The Narrator frowned. “Do you ever hear yourself think, Stanley.”

The office worker shook his head as he rolled up to him, intending to grab the Narrator's hands once more.

He had meant it to be nice. He had meant to slow down and pull his companion in for a kiss.

Unfortunately the Narrator was looking down at his feet, going fast.

They, of course, crashed.

...

“Oh, oh goodness, ugh," the Narrator sighed, now resting on top of Stanley.

The office worker would have immediately pushed him off, but he quite liked this position. Despite the fall having somewhat painfully taken Stanley’s breath away, the pressure of the Narrator’s weight on top of him was one thing he would never complain about.

As quick to recover as ever, Stanley took the opportunity to flirt.

‘So, you come here often?’

Badly.

The Narrator pushed himself up, looking down at Stanley with absolutely no amusement in his eyes. “You realize that might’ve been a bit more apt in quite literally any other ending we’ve actually done more than once?”

Stanley held back a laugh that calmed quickly when he noticed the look in the Narrator's eyes shift. There was suddenly a glint of playfulness behind those yellow tinted glasses.

Suddenly the Narrator shifted his position a bit, moving to get more comfortable for the both of them as he moved to sort of straddle Stanley. Just as soon his thick fingers rubbed over Stanley’s cheeks. They were cool with that fuzzy otherworldly tingle, and his weight was pressing into him just right.

‘God, you feel so good on top of me.’

“Stanley, don’t be crude.” The Narrator’s face was prickling with a pretty bright red. “Be quiet.”

‘Make me.’

Without hesitation, the Narrator leaned down and pressed their lips together. He didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss- licking Stanley’s lips to part them, licking into his mouth.

‘Mmm,’ Stanley moaned as he pressed his fingers into the Narrator’s thick waist, soft, then deep.

Their lips parted as the Narrator gasped, “Stanley.” before moving back in, kissing him more roughly. Not a moment later, those cool lips were on Stanley’s jaw, his neck- the Narrator’s fingers following, sliding down the length of it with each kiss.

It send a spark of chills under Stanley's skin, deeper even.

There was something about the way the Narrator would touch him at times, much, much deeper than a normal person could. Stanley relished in those rare few times the Narrator would let his essence slip past that human form of his and rub against Stanley’s... well, he wasn't sure but... his soul?

It gave him strange combination of intense chills and hot tingles. The feeling was all too much in a way that left Stanley wanting more.

The touch was light this time, softer than usual when he allowed Stanley to feel his deeper touch, as the Narrator was often wont to getting caught up in the moment, in the intimacy.

Despite not going all in, this time, that other spark of connection this sort of touch initiated was still present. It was a spark that put him in tune with what the Narrator was feeling. And the Narrator felt things in such a way that was both familiar yet foreign… Which was to say, he felt sensations in a way not too different than humans but there was something so strange in it still? Something so heavy in a way Stanley couldn't quite grasp.

Either way, that spark of shared feeling between them intensified the sensations of every touch, every shared thought, in their more intimate or rare warm moments.

It had always felt as if they had some sort of psychic link, the Narrator being able to read Stanley’s thoughts so as to narrate him very much lent to that thought. But times like these it was even more clear. And it was all so hard to explain and made absolutely no sense to anyone but them. But Stanley could feel that the Narrator was enjoying every moment as he pressed his cool lips against Stanley’s warm skin, as he felt Stanley moan deep in his throat at each touch.

The Narrator suddenly stopped, taking his deeper touch with him.

It left Stanley feeling a more empty sort of cold. He wanted more so bad. But also… the lack of distraction reminded him that his head and back were screaming in pain from the fall.

The Narrator ignored his whines and pained look and just… looked him over.

‘Come on,’ Stanley finally thought, ‘don’t stop.’

“Just a moment, love,” the Narrator whispered as he threaded those cool fingers of his through Stanley’s hair to the back of his head, giving him something of a makeshift pillow that both cradled his head a bit off the hard ground, and eased his pain some.

The office worker’s eyes fell shut as he let it sooth him.

His attention was just as soon caught by the Narrator’s other hand, his fingers trailing down Stanley’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Stanley. I really did a remarkable job with you.”

‘Mmhm.’

“Still quite plain... but,” he lightly rubbed his fingers over the freckles on Stanley’s nose, “mmm.”

Soft cold lips were once again brushing against Stanley's lips and all pain was out of his mind.

The Narrator stopped for a moment once more.

'Why are you torturing me? On my birthday even?'

The Narrator gave a warm hum and whispered, “How do you feel, love?” as he moved back down to kiss Stanley's cheek a few times.

‘Incredible.’

“Oh, I’m incredible?”

The office worker did his best to lightly nod while still being held. ‘A lot better at this than shooting targets.’ Stanley tried not to laugh as he thought it but he couldn’t help it.

‘Ah shit!’ His head hit the hard ground once more as the Narrator let go of him.

“Well, that was fun,” the Narrator groaned as he, despite still wearing skates, got up off of Stanley without issue, pushing into him harshly as he made his way off.

‘Oof!’

“Wonderful job killing the mood, Stanley.” His spite must’ve been aiding him in not rolling around falling all over.

Stanley wasn’t all that broken up about it, though. A floor for roller skating does not make for a very good pillow while making out.

He moved to push himself up and rubbed the back of his head and the back of his… back. God he hurt so much worse than expected.

‘You didn’t have to let my head fall like that again, you know.’ The boom of pain worsened as he tried to stand up.

“Hmph. That was your fault. You shouldn’t put all of your reliance on others, Stanley.”

He also had no trouble getting up as he quickly regained his footing on wheels. The trouble was with all the pain. He was getting flashbacks to the Zending making him go through so many falls before he could finally die.

Stanley wasn’t sure but he could swear the Narrator looked troubled for a moment at his thought. He recovered fast, though, and grumpily added, “If you’re that traumatized, Stanley, I can restart the game.”

‘No,’ he cringed in pain and agony, ‘no, don’t restart.’

There were many perks to being a video game character that could easily be completely healed with a simple reset. However, there were also many perks to pretending like you couldn’t do that and had to spend the rest of the night suffering.

...Maybe?

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no need to suffer when we can come back after a reset.”

‘You’d… actually bring us back here to skate more? Oh wow, that’s literally too kind of you.’

“Don’t push your luck, Stanley.”

‘Come on, what’s the catch?’

The Narrator looked a little bashful but said nothing.

...

‘...Oh. You really did like roller skating with me?’

“Stanley,” he grumbled but didn’t deny it.

It was funny. It was such a small, strangely boring thing for someone like the Narrator to want to do. But then, the most prominent and all important thing in his life that he wanted to do was... to get Stanley to the end of his story, to make him happy. And without further details or context... that wasn’t really all that spectacular a desire either.

In fact, put so simple like that it was… kind of sweet?

The Narrator was very much not a sweet guy. He definitely had his strangely kind moments but it was far from his default. But he certainly wasn't evil. His greatest hope was to finish his story and make his main character happy. And here Stanley was in the same position but his primary desire, his only goal, was to frustrate the Narrator.

So simply put it made Stanley sound like the bad guy despite the Narrator being the much more petty and vengeful of the two of them. Not that Stanley was a saint, though, he snickered to himself at the thought.

But really, in full strange, unintelligible, incomprehensible context the truest goal they both had was to just... keep each other and themselves entertained. And when it came to entertaining the Narrator truly was a pro. Him having such a fancy, silly... really hot- ah, him having that voice and a personality that was so incredibly weird in such funny ways certainly helped.

“Stanley? You’re blocking me out. Are you thinking mean and cruel things about me again?”

The office worker shook his head, then grabbed the Narrator’s hands without a word of thought as he pulled him into the rink again. Stanley skated backwards for a bit before moving to roll side by side with the Narrator, still holding his hand.

“Oh, but… aren’t you all… sore and weak? I- I suppose I was a bit rough with you, perhaps. I do apologize for that, as I’m certain you apologize for teasing me about my shooting gallery skills and ruining what otherwise could’ve been a nice evening at the fair for us.”

Stanley hid an oncoming smile, kept his face bland as usual and nodded.

“...Humans are so terribly delicate,” the Narrator chided. “It’s quite embarrassing.”

Stanley was absolutely still feeling the pain, but he was quick to adapt to any given situation, so he was sure he could endure-

“Stanley miraculously began to feel much better.”

And he did!

Wow, the Narrator was really pulling out all the ‘being nice for five minutes’ stops for Stanley's birthday today.

“It must’ve been the Narrator’s touch that healed him.”

The office worker rolled his eyes.

“Stanley certainly owed the Narrator quite a lot after he put all of this work into a new Games Ending for him.”

Stanley would think on that.

“All the Narrator asked was for a little more Freedom Ending and a little less headache now and then.”

The office worker nodded as he honestly took in his companions words, holding his hand tighter as they skated off into the sunset.

…

...Well, it was nighttime in this skating rink actually, so no sunset. Not to mention there were giant walls of some sort of plastic or glass around the rink, that rose up to the sky. Likely to keep you in the game.

‘Wait, why are there these giant visible walls? Why not just use invisible walls like most games do?’

“Oh, I hadn’t gotten to fully explain before, I’m rather glad you asked since I was quite puzzled myself at first. But it’s rather interesting. You see, Stanley, the track had once curved upward into the walls so skaters could do cool tricks… Or rather… 'sick stunts' is perhaps the proper terminology.”

Stanley nodded, that was kind of interesting. He did often have a moment of wonder about how other video games worked considering his own game was full of meta commentary on the nature of video games and all.

“You know, I think this game could’ve used more buckets. As obstacles, or even as décor.”

Stanley couldn't help but nod again, though his focus had waned a bit when he noticed, some ways ahead of them, was a piece of the track the Narrator had somehow forgotten to flatten. It went up into the wall that shot up into the sky, and it did indeed look like one could do some “sick stunts” off of it…

“And I honestly think they could’ve- hmm. Stanley… are we going faster?”

He nodded.

“Stanley? Stanley!!!”